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The light in the back classroom window caught Peter’s attention.
Midtown High should have been dark and empty, with students and teachers all long gone for the day. He swung closer and landed on the side of the building, crawling to peek his head into the window.
A group of students laughed and pointed in the science lab, their attention drawn to the figure in the center. Peter crawler around the window for a better look, freezing at the bleeding blond on his knees.
“Please,” Flash said, through a choked sob. “Stop it, please. I can’t…it hurts so much.”
“Aw, the big guy can’t take it?” One of the students asked. He swung his hand and Peter flinched as he hit Flash hard in the shoulder with a baseball bat. “Don’t you want more? You’re so big and tough you can take it.”
“No, more,” Flash sucked in a breath. A line of drool ran down his cheek through a split lip. He choked on it and shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, you should be,” the eldest said again. He kicked Flash over, stomping hard on his pelvis. “Ditching us for Parker? Really? You’re pathetic Flash.”
Peter kicked in the window and landed in a shower of glass, drawing the attention of the teenage brats committing assault. “I’m pretty sure it’s after curfew for children.”
“Spider-Man!” The first one yelled. He dropped his bat and made a run for the classroom door. “Run!”
Peter tripped the bully with webbing around his legs and felt a little too much satisfaction from the crunch when his head smacked into the ground and he broke a tooth. The others scattered, but Peter was faster. They’d felt big and mighty hurting Flash, but they were still regular teenage humans.
And Peter was Spider-Man.
He tied the group up and threw them all out into the hallway for good measure, slamming the door shut to give Flash some privacy.
His ex-bully and new friend hadn’t moved, even to acknowledge Spider-Man had arrived. Peter swallowed and took easy steps until he squatted next to Flash. He put a hesitant hand on Flash’s shoulder and kept his voice low. “They’re gone.”
Flash nodded, bitting his lip. His body shivered and he sniffed. Wet tears continued to drip down his cheeks. Flash was too stiff and kept trembling. Closer, Peter could see the bruises on his face more clearly and a rip in the side of his shirt.
Peter rubbed his shoulder. “Can you get up?”
“No,” Flash whispered. “They…I can’t—I have to get it out first.”
“Get what out?”
Flash lowered his head and bit his lip, shaking his head. His fingers curled in toward his palms and his voice cracked. “I don’t want you to see.”
“It’s okay,” Spider-Man said, keeping his voice low. “Those assholes are the ones that hurt you. You have nothing to be ashamed about.”
“It’s embarrassing,” Flash said, gritting his teeth. He curled further in on himself and turned away from Peter. “Please. You helped and thank you, but you can stop now.”
“I’ll stop when I know you’re going to be all right,” Peter pressed. He kept his hand on Flash’s shoulder and glared over it to the door. If those bullies got an extra kick on their way out the door, no one would blame him. “What do you need? I’ll help.”
“Please, no. Get someone else. Please let it be anyone but you,” Flash said, his voice choking again. “You’re Spider-Man and I’m—I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“Ah, Flash,” Peter said. “It’s okay, I promise.”
Something in his chest twisted tight. Flash Thompson had never been his closest friend—but he had turned around so much. He’d stood up for Peter and was glad to see him when they passed in town. He’d wave with a big smile and ask Peter to hang out for more than just study sessions. Flash had become a friend to Peter Parker, on top of being Spider-Man’s biggest fan.
Flash was hurt and ashamed and couldn’t ask his Hero for help.
But maybe he’d accept it from Peter Parker.
It was against his better judgment, but half of Horizon High knew who he was—what was one or two more from Midtown?
Peter ripped off his mask and squeezed Flash’s shoulder. “Hey, look at me.”
The man looked up, his one clear eye widening. Flash blinked a few times before he sat up, wincing with the movement. He kept starting at Peter before he sucked in a shaky breath.
“Parker?” Flash swallowed. “Is this a joke?”
“I’m a funny guy, but I wouldn’t joke about that. Not now.” Peter shook his head. “If you’re worried about embarrassing yourself in front of me, I doubt anything will ever come close to when you shoved me in a locker the first day of high school.”
“You were really tiny.” Flash snorted and sniffed. “I wanted to see if you’d fit.”
“I did,” Peter said. He rubbed Flash’s arm twice and huffed. He pulled his mask back on in case the people in the hallway wriggled free or came inside. “Come on, Flash. Tell me what I need to do so we can get you up and out of here.”
“They,” Flash paused. He shifted and rubbed his legs together, wincing. “They filled my pants with broken glass from a beaker they smashed on my head. Whenever I move they hurt and a few of them are in…sensitive places.”
Peter glanced down and noticed dark spots along his jeans, including a few darker ones near his crotch.
“Okay, here’s the plan,” Peter said. He inhaled and rubbed Flash’s arm up and down. “You are going to sit still. I’m going to grab a flashlight so we can get them all out, and the only person who will be embarrassed is me because you’re a hot jock and I’m still a tiny nerd who is going to be jealous in a minute.”
Flash snorted and rubbed under his nose before wiping away tears around his eyes. “You’re Spider-Man, dude. You’re the hot one.”
“Be right back,” Peter said. He got up and dug through the teacher’s desk until he found a flashlight and a ziplock bag for the glass. Peter returned and sat in front of Flash and held up the bag. “Can you hold this for me?”
Flash nodded.
Peter pushed his mask up so he could but the base of the small flashlight in his mouth so he could aim it toward Flash’s pants. Peter bit hard on the flashlight and forced himself to think clinically as he gently opened the already unzipped pants. He saw the first shard of glass sticking into the side of Flash’s boxers, and he touched it and pulled it out.
Only the tip was red and he sighed in relief. He didn’t want to know what he’d do if one of them was dug in too deep and he had to leave it there.
Peter wanted all of the glass out.
“Let me know if it hurts,” Peter said around the flashlight. “Okay?”
“Sure,” Flash said, his voice cracking again. “Just hurry up and get it all out.”
Peter glanced up and saw bright red flushing his bruised cheeks. He ducked his eyes down again and concentrated on getting the glass out as fast as possible with minimal touching.
In total, Peter dug out five large shards in the boxer region before Flash put his hands on Peter’s shoulder and squeaked, “That’s enough.”
He stood fast, wincing as the last of the glass slipped down his pants and clattered on the ground around his shoes with tiny specs of blood. Flash reached down and shook his jeans to get out the last one.
“Are you okay?” Peter asked, standing to join him. “Is that all of it?”
“Yeah,” Flash said, nodding. He rubbed his arm and looked away. “Thanks, Spider-Man.”
“Tiny Tutor,” Peter corrected. He patted Flash on the arm and pointed at the phone on the wall. “You should call an ambulance for your face and arm. The glass wasn’t all they did to you.”
“Right.”
The man looked down, his shoulders still low. Flash’s old friends had turned on him because he made a new one and Peter’s heart squeezed again. He reached over and pulled Flash into a gentle hug, squeezing as tight as he dared with Flash’s injuries.
“Parker?” Flash whispered. “What’re you doing?”
“Felt like hugging you,” Peter said. He let go and stepped back. “Is that a problem?”
Flash shook his head and a tiny smile grew, despite his damaged face. “Nope. Not at all—hugging is good.”
“Then you’ll have to give me another one after you’re all checked up,” Peter said. He gently pushed Flash toward the phone. “Right?”
“Yes,” Flash said. He reached over and dragged Peter closer into a hold. “With a noogie as a bonus!”
Peter laughed as Flash’s knuckles dug into his head.